


Sky high

by Spark_Stark



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Almost Kiss, Autistic Spencer Reid, Awkward Flirting, BAMF Spencer Reid, Betaed, Bisexual Aaron Hotchner, Drug Addiction, Eventual Relationships, Gay Spencer Reid, Getting Together, Happy Spencer Reid, Idiots in Love, M/M, Or as slow as I can make it without losing patience, Protective Aaron Hotchner, Slow Burn, Smoking, So we are led to believe, Spencer Reid Doesn't Work for the BAU, Top Spencer Reid, Well not really but he gives off that energy at times, Your honour they're idiots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:34:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28436964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spark_Stark/pseuds/Spark_Stark
Summary: “Once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward. For there you have been, and there you will always long to return.”- Leonardo da Vinci.Doctor Spencer Reid is the leading civil aviation accident investigator in the United States. When a plane crashes less than a mile from the FBI academy in Quantico, Virginia, him and his team from the National Transportation Safety Board are called out to investigate. It soon becomes apparent that the crash was a hijacking and the target was one SSA Aaron Hotchner, BAU unit chief.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid
Comments: 62
Kudos: 188





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by the amazing goobzoop

The shrill ringing of his phone pulled Spencer from his dreamless sleep. It'd fallen flat against his chest along with the case file he'd been reading until the early hours of the morning. "Doctor Reid," he lurched from his dry throat; it was mid afternoon on his day off and he hoped to be uninterrupted. He needed the sleep. Desperately. 

"Is Doctor Blake available?" Was the first thing he asked in response to the voice on the other end of the line. Reid pushed the haphazardly laid files off his chest and sat up. "I'll drive out right away." He hung up and checked the time: half past two.

Before forcing himself out of bed, he sent a text to Blake to meet at the crash site and for Connors to make his way to the office. His go bag laid open by his bedroom door - shirts, ties, trousers and his rain jacket all neatly folded within it. He wouldn't require the bag this time, he was only driving an hour out to Quantico. He needed to shower and change after falling asleep in his clothes from yesterday.

There was already a crowd at the site when Reid arrived. Blake's car was parked just outside of the perimeter. Local law enforcement officers locked down the area as instructed and, thankfully, were controlling the steadily growing crowd. He turned off his engine and pulled his jacket on, NTSB written in bold yellow across the back; he was the lead on the scene but without his credentials the LEOs wouldn't take him seriously. He learned from experience and he still looked twenty if he was being honest. The air was frigid for August and the smell of airplane fuel and smoke overcame his senses, he never quite got used to it.

Blake stepped out at the same time as him, they nodded at one another and approached the barrier together. "Doctor Reid, IIC.” He held his credentials up to the police officer at the barrier who raised their eyebrows at Reid but let them through.

The first responders were still clearing the casualties from the scene. Blake stopped one of the EMTs walking passed. "What're the numbers?" she asked, tying her hair back.

"Four DOA, eight already on their way to Stafford," he replied. Blake thanked him and he went on his way, leaving them at the edge of the crash site. They’d both been briefed on what was known; 224 passengers and crew on a flight from Dallas to Philadelphia, crashed at approximately 13:55. The open field was empty and green despite the wreckage.

Reid sighed and Blake turned to him. "Initial impressions?" she asked, the same routine as every site they visited.

He sunk down to his knees and felt the ground beneath him, dirt and rocks shaken free from the impact of the crash. "The plane made it all the way to the ground before breaking apart, meaning they were at a low altitude, or else the air resistance would have torn the wings from the fuselage before impact."

Beside him, Blake nodded in agreement. "Probable cause is mechanical failure, the pilot may have tried an emergency landing...” she trailed off, looking at what seemed to be the singed landing gear torn from the plane and stuck in the ground. Reid glanced up to her and she hesitated. "My gut says hijack." she spoke lowly hoping that nobody would overhear her.

He didn’t look up as he spoke, “Alex, you know we can’t make jumps like that this soon.” 

Blake said nothing in reply until Reid nodded and spoke again, "FBI academy is less than a mile away." His voice was low and his words calculated.

"Might have been aiming for DC," Blake proposed, but Reid hummed in a tone that she knew meant he didn't agree. “We’ll have to see the flight path." She mused.

They looked at each other with uneasiness written on their faces. Reid pulled a pair of latex gloves from his jacket pocket and put them on. Blake did the same. They split up and went their separate ways to take a look at the broken plane, sitting in grotesque, jagged pieces amongst the wreckage. The first responders began to clear out once all the spot fires were extinguished and the uninjured passengers and crew were taken away from the scene. 

The smoke still hung thick in the air, making it difficult to breathe. Sounds of concern and impatience floated over from beyond the barricaded perimeter but Reid blocked it all out as best he could, focusing his mind on the scorched remains around him.

Reid's phone began to ring again and he took it into his hands. "Connors, are you at the office yet?" he asked.

On the other end of the line Sam Connors responded, "I'm here with Kev, waiting for your word."

Reid hummed before saying, "Blake thinks hijacking." His voice was low and he checked over his shoulder, making sure nobody could overhear him. On the other end of the line Connors was quiet.

He heard a muttered ‘shit’ but decided that now wasn't the time to reprimand his subordinate for unprofessional language. 'I'll contact air traffic control." There was nothing more to be said and Connors hung up with no goodbye, presumably already rushing to begin his work.

Footsteps approached from behind Reid and he knew it was Blake. "Recovery team has arrived," she announced. "FDR should be easy enough to find." She was right. As far as crash sites went, this was quite clean and manageable, or at leastwhen compared to the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean or the Nevada desert.

“Please tell me Hades isn’t there,” The comment made Blake laugh. Reid stood up beside her. "I'll tell them to send it straight to Lynch."

"I've seen enough if you have," she replied and decided not to mention that the man whom he was referring to was called Hawkes, not Hades. There was bad blood between them and Hades was quite a fitting name for him. Spencer nodded and pulled off his gloves.

They walked side by side back to the perimeter. "We shouldn't get too ahead of ourselves," Reid warned Blake, who nodded in agreement. "But it wouldn't do any harm to have the FBI on speed dial... just as a precaution." Blake pressed her lips into a thin line -a look that Reid had come to know well- It was apprehension. He couldn't exactly blame her; he felt the same.

Reid wasn't a fan of joint investigations but cases like this were FBIjurisdiction if they involved terrorism or the threat of. He worked with his fair share of agents over the years, both before and after he was promoted to investigator-in-charge. As an academic, Reid appreciated collaboration, but as an air accident investigator he didn’t enjoy being side lined by bureaucratic brawns from counter terrorism and major crimes units who poked at wreckage with their pencil pushing, handgun carrying paws and couldn't tell the difference between the left wing and the right. 

Yes, he was a _little bit_ biased when it came to task forces and joint investigations. But when the occasion called for it, he put on a smile and said ‘Yes, Agent’ as he explained the basic laws of aerodynamics and FAA regulations.

Years ago, when he was on his second doctorate and no older than seventeen, an influential Agent named Jason Gideon _almost_ convinced him to join the Bureau and become a profiler in his behavioural analysis unit. In fact, Reid was already finished with his BA in psychology and had been considering a career in that direction already. However, he eventually realised that what Gideon saw in him was an asset and not a person. He only wanted his brain and didn’t care what was best for him. 

So, he pushed Gideon away and followed the path that he wanted; he already had his mathematics doctorate and carried on with his engineering. Then, because he was still too young for the NTSB, he pursued a chemistry doctorate. 

After being accepted to the NTSB every additional degree was just something to do in his spare time. He recieved his sociology BA the year he moved to DC to join the aviation safety office. He never looked back to the seventeen year old kid who hung onto every word Gideon said, insecure and desperate for validation. Spencer Reid was an expert in his field, the lead investigator for civil aviation accidents in the United States. 

Now he made his own decisions, doubted himself less, walked down the street with his head held high and didn’t let people walk over him anymore. 


	2. Chapter 2

"Play it back," Reid said, making a rewind gesture with his hand.

Lynch nodded and did as he was instructed despite not understanding. Reid's hand made a fist as he relistened to the cockpit voice recorder. "There," he said. Lynch paused the audio. “Enhance that, please.”

Lynch did as he was told. 

Two of the three others in the room seemed clueless, their faces portraying just as much. The doctored audio was replayed again as Blake nodded. "That sounds like a phone,” she said.

Now understanding what Reid was attempting to explain, Connors hastily made his way across the space to pick up a file. "Both the pilot and co-pilot's phones were recovered at the site," he said, reading from the evidence list. Before he could even place the file back on the table, Reid was out of the room and down the hallway. He swerved through crowds of people in the corridors he'd become familiar with over the past four years until he found himself in the evidence room.

He made it there and back in what was probably record timing with the two phones covered in plastic evidence bags in his hands.

"What is it?" Connors asked, looking over Reid's shoulder once he’d returned. Reid tried not to physically flinch at his closeness. His fingers were wrapped around the co-pilot’s mobile phone where Connors’ attention laid.

Blake could see his discomfort from Connors’ closeness and took the phone from Reid's gloved hand. Connors followed Blake as she stepped away from Reid to give him some space. "I know this man," she announced. On the phone, a single text message was displayed. A photo of a man: middle aged, dark hair and wearing a suit. It looked like it had been taken without his knowledge, perhaps a surveillance photo.

There was a minute of silence. "So do I,” Reid said. 'I've seen him before."

"A politician?” Lynch asked from his seat at his desk, the audio file still paused on his computer screen.

Blake shook her head. "That's Aaron Hotchner. He works for the FBI." She slipped the phone back into it’s evidence bag and sighed. 

Connors sank himself into the nearest seat. “I guess this is a federal case now.” He said, the displeasure clear in his voice. Reid pulled the blue latex gloves off of his hands and threw them into the bin on his way out of the room.

* * *

Agent Hotchner offered his hand to Reid whose hesitance was as clear as day to both of them. Nothing was said, however, and Reid took his hand, shook once, then pulled his body away from Hotchner. The agent that had escorted them from downstairs disappeared and suddenly the area felt much smaller. There were at least twenty other people in the open office space but it felt like it was just him and Aaron Hotchner, who was looking him up and down not so subtly. Reid’s breathing felt so loud in his ears.

Once he mentally regained his posture and place within the room he introduced himself and his team. “I’m Doctor Reid and these are my investigators Doctor Alex Blake and Sam Connors,” he said, hoping his voice wasn’t as wobbly as it sounded in his own ears.

“Pleasure to meet you, Doctor Reid,” Hotchner said, the definition of politeness. "These are agents Rossi, Morgan, Prentiss, and Jareau." 

Arguably the worst part of the day, meeting new people, was over. He gave a curt nod to each of the agents and then let himself relax. Not one for small talk, he glanced around the room until Alex took over. 

"I'm surprised your team was allowed on the case," Blake said as they were directed to the boards across the bullpen. 

The older agent, Rossi, chuckled. "We have our ways," he answered cryptically.

As Reid and Connors familiarised themselves with the boards and case files laid out, Blake turned to Rossi again. "It's an honour to be working with you, Agent Rossi." 

"And with you, doctor. I'd heard of you years back before I left the Bureau. I wasn’t aware that you had left too," he replied.

Blake made a dismissive gesture. "It was time for a change," she said. Spencer knew that she was lying, Alex hadn't wanted to leave the FBI but she wasn’t given the choice.

Blake worked on the Unabomber case back when she was still at the bureau; she'd met Agent Hotchner on that case. Between then and Amerithrax her transfer to the BAU was almost certain. She'd never described in detail the events of that case and her resulting resignation, but from what Reid knew, she'd been screwed over by bureaucracy and forced into leaving - her dream of the BAU long gone.

Reid's team worked in silence alongside the BAU agents. They had their own work to complete; analysing the flight path and black boxes. Spencer never worked with the BAU before, so besides what Gideon had shown him, he knew very little about the unit. Gideon wasn't even part of the FBI anymore. Reid hadn't known that. 

Agent Hotchner had a familiar face that he couldn't seem to remember why he recognised. The feeling of breathlessness when looking at him was not new; it was a weird form of Deja vu because he _knew_ he'd experienced this before, but he couldn't place where or when.

The very feeling of eyes on him sent a chill down his spine. "Doctor Reid?" Hotchner called to himfor the second time- he hadn't heard the first.

He turned away from the board to the group of agents, all staring expectantly at him. "Uh, yes?" he answered.

"The pilot and co-pilot, " Hotchner said with absolute neutrality. "What do you know about them?"

As if a spark had ignited in Spencer's brain, the fog of his own cluelessness cleared and left behind images of the pilot's personnel file he’d read the previous day. "Captain Hayward was a veteran with the airline, aged forty eight. He joined after an honorable discharge from the Air Force due to injury in 1997."

Hotchner nodded with understanding but it was Agent Morgan who spoke next. "Is that common? For military pilots to go commercial?" he asked.

Reid shrugged. "Sixty percent continue flying after their military career. Most are commercial."

"And the co-pilot?" Hotchner questioned.

"First officer Rainn joined the airline straight after qualifying as a commercial pilot at twenty four but took a year of absence three years ago after the death of his daughter." Reid knew what their next question would be, but he didn't know the answer to it. “It's not documented how she died or her age," he said before they could ask.

Agent Prentiss opened and closed her mouth, looking at him with her eyebrows raised. Once she found what she was presumably searching for in his body language or facial expression - Reid didn't know or particularly care - she turned her attention back to the papers beneath her on the desk. It felt like an hour, but was probably no more than three seconds.

When Morgan took in the series of expressions on Prentiss' face, he laughed. Reid felt himself tense in response. Clearly, he had missed something.

“I'll have Garcia look into it," Hotchner's smooth, deep voice floated to Reid's ears and it felt like weightlessness had overcome him. The weird side glances of the agents seemed inconsequential and unimportant when Agent Hotchner turned to him with an almost smile and said, "Thank you."

He took an involuntary breath and blushed. “Yeah, uh.” He stuttered, forgetting himself. “You’re welcome.” 


	3. Chapter 3

Thankfully, the commute to Quantico was quiet. The early morning rush was minimal, most workers going into DC rather than away from it, and Spencer fought through the crowds and out of the subway to the much less busy streets of the Virginia suburbs.

He arrived at the office at half past seven. The FBI building wasn't the same bustling centre that it was yesterday; Reid counted no more than four people, two of which were security guards. After signing in and being given a similar visitor pass as the day before, he took the elevator to the BAU floor. There were another two guards that walked past Reid, but they barely glanced at him.

The office was completely empty and silent, which felt like bliss to Spencer. Half the lights were off and the only sound that filtered through were cars from outside.

"Doctor Reid? You're early." The voice scared Reid from his dreamlike state. He'd hoped to spend at least an hour uninterrupted to work on the case by himself.

"So are you, Agent Hotchner," Reid said, once he got over the initial shock of Hotchner being with him in the room.

Hotchner put his hands on his hips- a simple, common gesture that Reid had seen people do many times- but on him, however, there was something about it that Reid couldn't place. It was _captivating_. It went completely against the tough, manly FBI agent persona that Hotchner exuded.

"Well," he said, surprisingly light. "There's always work to be done." 

Reid felt himself grinning. "I couldn't agree more, agent." He found himself beginning to like Agent Hotchner. He wasn't like the other men Reid had worked with before.

"Call me Hotch,” he replied. His voice was soft and sweet, so different from what Reid heard from him just yesterday; there was an absence of authority and stoicism that he felt was something of an honour to witness.

Breathing in an unsteady breath, he tried the name out on his lips. "Hotch." He nodded. "Would you like some coffee?"

Hotch smiled. It wasn't wide like Spencer's- it was small, shy... just barely there. But it _was_ there, and that's what mattered. Blake told him all she knew about Aaron Hotchner a few days prior. He was a no nonsense leader who followed through on his word, a sincerely moral and honorable man. He lost his ex-wife to a serial killer and was now a single father, but that was well after Blake’s time. He’s received awards and honours the length of his arm, but never promoted above Unit Chief of the BAU. (Yes, they also googled him on the drive to Quantico) 

"I was on my way to get some myself," Hotch said, as he raised his arm and gestured Reid ahead of him toward the break room. 

They walked side by side across the bullpen. The silence was comfortable but Reid found himself wanting to make conversation with Hotch, however forgien that concept was to him. Spencer Reid, chatting about the weather? Dear God, what a thought. Still… he wanted to get to know him. Every conversation starter he could think of seemed kind of pathetic, though. 

"How was your, uh, weekend?" he said, before his mind had finished debating himself.

If Hotch thought it weird, he made no indication. "It was nice. My son had a soccer game."

Reid's relief flowed off of him as Hotch started the coffee machine. "Oh yeah? How'd he do?” he asked.

The smile that came over Hotch’s face was bright and uncensored. “He scored two goals.” The pride rolled off of him in waves, and if Spencer hadn't been attracted to him already, he definitely was now. He felt himself beginning to blush and tried to taper it down, though he hadn’t realised he was staring at Hotch.

"How do you take it?" Hotch asked, leaning against the counter.

Reid stared at him. “W-What?"

The smirk on Hotch’s face told Reid that Hotch knew exactly what he was doing. "Your coffee," he said. "How do you take it?"

Spencer was still blushing from the sight of Hotch’s earlier smile but his face was getting very hot. "Ah- cream and sugar, please," he croaked to a still smirking Hotch.

Hotch poured milk and sugar into Reid's mug, then passed it to him and didn't let go until Reid's fingers came over his. "Thank you," Reid said, but didn't take a sip out of it. Hotch watched from behind his own mug as Reid reached out for the sugar and poured what Hotch could only estimate as _half a kilogram_ into his mug.

When he was finished, Reid put the mug to his mouth. He wanted to say something because Hotch was looking at him with something in his eyes that he couldn't begin to understand.

"How old is your son?" Reid asked, trying to pull Hotch’s attention away from him.

It worked when Hotch’s face brightened at the mention. Reid never thought of himself as attracted to tall, dark, and handsome fathers, but here he was grabbing onto the counter top to stop himself from buckling at the knees. Airline pilots, _those_ were definitely his type- charming and sometimes egotistical- but Aaron Hotchner was definitely not that. He was sweet and humble. He was charming too, of course, but not in the same way. Hotch didn't use his good looks to get into anybody's pants.

He was teasing Spencer, because he was aware that Spencer was attracted to him, but he wasn't a dick about it. "He's almost eight," Hotch said. "He’s at that age where he doesn't like being told no."

Reid chuckled. "How do you handle it?" He was genuinely curious.

"Uh," Hotch said, surprised by the question. "I usually try to explain my position."

"Does that work?"

Hotch was the one who chuckled this time, but it was a sad sort. "Not as often as I'd like it to." His voice was heavier now than it had been earlier.

Reid nodded and sipped at his drink because he didn't know what else to say. His phone beeped in his pocket. Hotch sipped at his own coffee, turning away from Spencer to let him take the call. It was just another polite thing that Hotch did.

"The pilot's personnel file is encrypted. Well, part of it," Reid said, paraphrasing the text message Lynch just sent him. He wasn't too surprised to find that Lynch was awake and working at this hour of the morning. It was nearing eight a.m.

The silence from Hotch was concerning. "What does that mean?" he asked eventually.

Reid sighed. "I've seen this once before," he murmured, speedily typing out a response to Lynch on his phone. “Air Force One, probably."

When Reid looked up from his phone again, Hotch’s eyes were wide. "A pilot... on Air Force One? With the President?” Reid had never expected to see Hotch speechless, but there he was with wide eyes and barely a sentence to form on his lips. _S_ _peechless_. 

“I hear you’ve got a world class technical analyst,” Reid said. “If my contact falls through, could she retrieve Captain Hayward’s file?”

He had a friend in the Secret Service that he had met the last time he worked a case like this, where a pilot’s flight history was classified. He reached out to the USAF liaison officer to the NTSB during one case who in turn introduced him to a Secret Service agent. Gideon told him it was important to make connections with other agencies, and although he disregarded almost every piece of ‘advice’ Gideon had given him, this was genuinely useful information. He and his connection in the Secret Service both lived in DC for work and met up for lunch quite often; Reid considered them close friends.

Hotch raised his eyebrows. “I’m confident she could,” he replied with no hesitation. 

Reid smiled at Hotch’s faith in his team. “It wouldn’t be exactly… legal,” Hotch insinuated, but he just smiled, recalling a fond memory.

“When this is all over,” he replied, his voice light and soft once again. “Remind me to tell you the story of how Ms. Garcia and I met.”


	4. Chapter 4

Spencer found himself working in relative peace and quiet for most of the day. Most of Hotch’s team parted ways after their morning briefing to investigate leads and whatever else it was that profilers did. 

Agent Jareau asked Blake to assist in the preparation of a press conference for the evening news and Connors was at the DC office in a meeting with representatives from the Federal Aviation Administration. The BAU’s technical analyst, Agent Garcia, invited Lynch to work from her office so that they could coordinate their data or whatever it was Lynch said to him that morning- he spoke so quickly that Reid never truly understood what he was saying.

He always preferred to work in solitude, which was why his usual go-team was four investigators rather than the eight or ten that other IIC’s tended to prefer. Spencer worked with bigger teams before being promoted to lead investigator, but he found that there always tended to be someone breathing down his neck or overlooking his work because he was young and therefore could not be trusted in the eyes of others. Reid trusted his team; he knew what they were capable of. He never felt the need to hang around them to make sure no mistakes were made, and he despised when others did that to him.

Thankfully, Hotchner didn't seem to be that sort of person. When he asked Reid questions, it wasn’t because he thought he didn't know, but rather because he needed an answer and he knew he could give him one. It was a nice change, not having to prove himself to someone, not having his authority called into question.

At six that evening, the office began to clear out. Kevin Lynch rang Reid to tell him that the pilot's personnel file was beginning to be decrypted. Lynch agreed to make the journey back to DC and send over the file once it was ready. Reid would be staying at Quantico to look over the results.

Reid was alone in his team's workspace. He sent Connors and Blake home at six as they had been working late since the beginning of the case and deserved an early night.

The BAU team started to leave a few minutes later, and Agent Jareau came over to say good night which Spencer thought was quite kind. He was beginning to like her.

Almost an hour later, the office was as quiet as it was that morning. A few agents were milling about the floor, not paying attention to Reid for which he was grateful.

"First in and last out?" The voice had Reid twisting in his seat to see Hotchner leaning against his office door frame.

Reid's response was caught in his throat when Hotch smirked at him and folded his arms over. It was such a contradiction to the man he had seen earlier that day. "Uh, yeah," he said. "I sent 'em home, they work too hard.”

Hotch raised one eyebrow at him. "You're a kind boss," he replied, making his way down the stairs toward Spencer's work space.

"You did the same," Reid stated. Hotch paused and thought about what Reid said, realising it to be true and chuckled in response.

"I guess so," Hotch said, smiling as he did so.

They stared at each other for a second before Spencer looked away and back at the ground beneath his feet. He  _ felt _ more than heard Hotch move toward him, until he was standing right in front of him. "Are you in DC? Living - I mean," Hotch asked, and although Reid couldn't detect it, there was nervousness in his voice.

Reid looked up at him. “Yeah. I prefer to take the metro here."

It felt awkward after saying it out loud, like he was intentionally being short with Hotch, but in truth he was just too nervous to say anything with him standing so close. He could even smell Hotch’s cologne

“Are you on your way home then?" Hotch asked.

"Not yet, actually," Reid answered. "I'm waiting for the personnel file from Captain Hayward to be decrypted and sent over."

Hotch leaned against the desk behind him; Reid was sure it was Prentiss'. "How long will that take?" he asked. His hand went to his pocket and pulled out his phone.

Reid hummed in thought, “About an hour," he replied as Hotch nodded in acknowledgement while tapping at his phone screen. When Hotch pocketed the device and looked up at Reid, he was smiling so brightly that Reid had trouble thinking for a few seconds.

"I've still got some work to do, why don't you come up to my office until your file comes in?" Hotch proposed. "I have a couch much more comfortable than these chairs." he pointed over his shoulder with his thumb and Reid knew he didn't have it in himself to decline the offer.

"The company would be nice," Spencer said, blushing as he did so.

Hotch mirrored Reid's earlier action and ducked his head down to the floor. "Well, I'd like that too." He looked back up to Reid. "I'll make us some coffee, go ahead on up."

In Hotch’s office, Reid tried to make himself comfortable on Hotch’s couch. He put his left leg under him and stimmed with the necklace he was wearing. It was a soft cotton string with a small sponge-like pi symbol attached to it. It had been a birthday gift from Blake last year and he had worn it almost everyday since.

Reid tried not to intrude on Hotch’s space, but from the couch he could see the many photographs on his desk and the shelves behind it. Every photo had the same blonde haired young boy with a wide smile so similar to Hotch’s that Reid knew it was Jack, his son that he was talking about just this morning.

When Hotch came back into the office, he handed one of the steaming mugs to Reid who thanked him. Their fingers brushed when the mug was passed between them and it made Reid feel like a fifteen year old when he felt his heart skip a beat. Hotch saw the necklace around his neck and smiled shortly, then walked to his desk and took his seat behind it, placing down his mug. Reid tried not to let his eyes wander to Hotch’s ass as he walked.

Hotch looked up to him across the desk and lifted his mug to his lips. Reid decided the safest option was to follow suit, lest he say something mortifying about the man’s attractive backside. The coffee was suprisingly sweet, exactly as he liked it, actually.

"Do you work with other agencies often?" Reid asked, once the unnecessary butterflies in his stomach calmed, because it really wasn’t that big of a deal that Hotch remembered how he liked his coffee and had gone out of his way to make it that way for him.

Hotch nodded. "Most out of town cases are in cooperation with local law enforcement. It's actually quite rare that we're working out of our own office."

"Hence the liaison," Spencer responded. "I think my team could use one of them."

He hadn't realised he'd said something wrong until Hotch bristled at his words. "Agent Jareau is an invaluable member of my team." His voice was sharp and chilled Spencer through his skin.

"l-l didn't, not like that," Reid stuttered, trying to explain himself.

When Hotch held his free hand up, Reid stopped. "I understand, I don't know why I assumed..." Reid sighed in relief and tried to smile to diffuse the situation.

The air cleared between them relatively quickly and Reid shrugged as he took another sip, his coffee almost empty from the big gulps he’d been taking. "It's alright. She's the youngest on your team and a woman, I'm not surprised if you say you've had to stand up for her. " He winced when he realised the way his words had come out. "Not that she can't stand up for herself- she's totally badass. I just mean, most cops all have that tough man act y’know? They probably treat her badly and make advances on her."

Clearly words weren't Spencer's friend tonight, he needed to shut up.

Hotch signed and nodded. "Yes," he said, which surprised Reid. "I wish she didn't have to go through all that." The empathy was obvious in Hotch’s voice.

"The team really is like your family," Reid replied in observation. It was hard to miss how they worked together and treated one another.

“When JJ first joined the team,” Hotch said quietly. Reid placed his mug down on the table beside the couch and leaned forward to show he was listening. “I was so protective of her. I thought I might’ve been attracted to her- I was terrified. She was slim and blonde like my wife, so I thought... I went home one night to Haley and cried and begged her to forgive me.” He started to chuckle and Reid found himself smiling. 

He cocked his head to the side. “What did she say?”

Hotch smiled then, it was small and shy but it was beautiful nonetheless. Reid found himself struggling to breathe. “Exactly what you just said. She’s a young woman in law enforcement, the chances of her being harassed are way too high.” Reid hummed in agreement. “I wasn’t attracted to her, I was protective of her. I didn’t want to see her taken advantage of. Especially not while she was on my team.”

There was an awkward silence then, neither man was sure of what to say. Reid spoke then, “I’m surprised you’d think I was trying to make an advance on her.” Hotch furrowed his eyebrows and Reid smiled widely then. “Most people take one look at me and assume I’m gay.” They laughed then. 

“I’m a profiler, Doctor Reid,” Hotch responded. His voice was deep and thick and Spencer had to cross his legs because the vibrations went straight to his crotch. “I didn’t have to assume.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyoooo what do we think :))


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning was quiet; alarmingly so. The NTSB team was in Washington DC for the foreseeable future, which should have been a relief to Hotch with less people milling about his bullpen disrupting his agents. 

Reid had been quite the hit with more than just Hotch. Garcia was fascinated by his personality, which was... new, to Spencer. Nobody had ever liked him for his personality. He wasn’t sure what to make of it but she was nice and a pleasant change of pace from the others. She wasn’t intense or intimidating; she was welcoming and soft around the edges. Reid found himself not trying as hard to be assertive and authoritative around her and felt more like himself with her. 

He understood why Lynch asked to work with her. He’d probably ask the same were he in Lynch’s position. 

Morgan called him  _ ‘Pretty Boy’  _ two days ago. He’d been so caught up in his mind, he hadn’t heard Morgan calling his name. It had sent him into a blushing mess that everybody found entertaining to no end. Reid had stammered out a vague sentence along the lines of, “Uh, sorry. I was... thinking, I guess. Sorry.”

Jareau - who now insisted on being called JJ - gave him a look that laid somewhere between empathy and fondness. She was like that often.

He was awkward for some time afterwards until Prentiss quietly approached him in the break room. “They’re not, you know.” She said, lowly. 

“Not what?” Reid asked, being careful not to bite his lip as he did so. These profilers could see everything. 

“Homophobic,” she answered, not as quietly as Reid expected. “I’m gay too.” It was her form of solidarity, attempting to show him he had nothing to be scared of. 

There was something else there, she had more to say but refrained from doing so. Reid nodded and offered her some sort of smile. “Thanks,” he said. “I don’t- I’m not interested in him or anything like that.” 

Prentiss held her hand up, hovering just above Reid’s arm. She didn’t touch though, and he appreciated that. “We know. He’s objectively handsome the same way you are objectively pretty. It’s a compliment, not flirting.” She smiled at him and something about it made Spencer feel like he was honoured to see the expression. 

Their eyes met and a moment passed between them. The feeling was ineffable, but mutual. They parted soon after with the beginnings of a friendship in the making. 

Many hours later, well into the fourth day and with no new leads, Rossi sat back in his chair gripping a pen and addressed the elephant in the room, "Where’s that airplane kid?" 

Hotch looked up from across the roundtable. "Doctor Reid," he corrected sternly, "is in the NTSB offices." They all noticed his reaction and understood what it meant, despite trying not to profile their boss.

He’d said that on purpose to get a reaction from Hotch.

"Did you sleep with him and he didn't call?”

Prentiss' eyes were wide with disbelief positive that she had misheard. JJ, knowing that she had heard perfectly, didn't dare to move in fear of what was to come, hoping she could blend into the wall. Morgan took a deep breath and was yet to breathe out.

It felt like eons passed when Hotch eventually spoke. "No." His voice was... Calm. It was wavy, and when they looked his way, the team realised it was because he was  _ holding in laughter. _ His shoulders shook and his lips were thin, pushed together to keep the sound from escaping. "The plane has been sent to DC for reconstruction, we will be heading out there tomorrow."

Morgan's lungs relented and released the air they were holding. "Right," Rossi said, still leaning back in his chair. "So you haven't slept together yet?” he asked, because he couldn't really resist it. He knew he was the only one who could get away with asking - he was always poking at Aaron's personal business, but the whole team was equally as curious.

It was a trick question and they all knew it. There was no way Hotch could word his answer without revealing his intentions. " _ No _ , we have not. There is a case to solve,” he answered. His fate was now sealed. No matter how professional he acted toward Spencer, they would all know that he had very not-professional feelings about him. 

The grin Rossi was displaying was enough for Hotch to call an early lunch to find an excusable escape from the room. With Reid around to preoccupy his mind, he hadn’t thought much about what this case meant to him. They’d been tiptoeing around the whole  _ ‘the co-pilot had a photo of Hotch on his phone before he crashed into a field less than a mile away from his office’  _ thing. 

Reid almost helped him ignore it. 

But he was not working with him, he was working alongside him, which were two completely different things all together. They had two very different jobs to do. Hotch really had no business being around Reid as much as he had been. If anybody was to be constantly at Reid’s side, it should be JJ. It was, after all, her job. They all knew that, of course. It was the reason Rossi was poking at him like that, but Hotch wasn’t ready to face that fact yet. 

A fact he would soon have to face though, was that he was the target of this attack. His face was on their victimology board. 

It hadn’t been there since George Foyet.

He’d see Reid again tomorrow. 

“Aaron?” 

Behind him Rossi was standing, his usual semi-concerned scowl in full effect. “Yes, Dave?” he asked. His hand went to his pocket and felt for his phone. He wasn’t sure why.

“Is everything alright?” Dave asked in response. Hotch was still standing in the middle of the walkway from the briefing room to his office. 

Hotch looked around him, the area was relatively empty. It was still a respectable lunch time, after all. “Yes, I was just-” He waved his hand in the air between himself and Rossi, gesturing to nothing in specific. 

Although Rossi wasn’t exactly sure what Hotch was referring to, he nodded. “How are you holding up?” he asked, stepping closer to Hotch with more concern and less scowl. “With everything, I know it isn’t a kind memory to have.” 

Rossi had known what Aaron was feeling before Aaron had; and wasn’t that just symbolic of their relationship. Dave was giving him the puzzle pieces to put together. “I haven’t been thinking about it all that much,” he admitted. 

He wanted to call it practised compartmentalisation, but it was mostly just distraction on Reid’s part. 

“I suppose that’s for the best,” Rossi said. “It might be time to… get yourself back out there.” 

The look he gave Hotch left no room for argument the way Hotch would have intended. He sighed and turned, beginning the walk to his office that he never completed the first time. “Dave, It’s…” He opened the door and stepped inside, Rossi following close behind. 

Rossi had been expecting that response from him. “We’ll solve this, Aaron. We’ll catch the bastard behind this and then you’ll invite Doctor Reid to drinks with the team and make your move.” 

The laughter came out of Hotch’s mouth before he could catch it. “No! No way-”

“That was not a suggestion, Aaron.” 

He was fighting a losing battle and he knew it. Hotch sat against the edge of his desk, a gesture he would only ever do around Rossi, and smiled. “I’ll think about it,” he said, admitting defeat. 

It was worth it to see the easy smile on Rossi’s face. “Atta boy.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dave coercing hotch into a relationship.. we love to see it.   
> opinions, thoughts, comments! here or anon on my tumblr hotchreidd:)


	6. Chapter 6

Hotch barely slept that night. Thinking about the next day and seeing Reid again, it shouldn’t have been as nerve wracking as it was. He hadn’t even known Reid that long, little more than a week, but after going one day without seeing him, Hotch wasn’t sure what to do with himself. 

Late that night, they recieved a break in the case. A person of interest they were very confident about was in custody and the team would pick up with interrogating in the morning after going to the plane reconstruction in DC. Hotch wanted to chalk his sleeplessness up to the adrenaline rush of an arrest, but that would be simply untrue. 

Now that they were narrowing in on their potential unsub, Hotch was ordered not to interfere. He could profile and watch the interrogation from behind closed doors, but he couldn’t be involved with anymore arrests if there were more to come. 

They profiled that a team of at least four were responsible for the plane crash, which meant there were still three or more out there that Hotch couldn’t involve himself with. The leader of the team would have a personal connection to Hotch, to what extent they wouldn’t know until he was caught. 

“Daddy?” Small hands curled around the handle on his bedroom door and pushed it open.

Hotch sat up from his semi-slouched position against the headboard as his son came further into the room. “Hey, you’re up late,” he said quietly. He put his arms out and helped Jack onto the bed beside him. “What’s up, Buddy?” he asked as Jack made himself comfortable against his side on the bed.

Jack sighed and leaned his head against his chest. “I was bored,” he murmured, looking down at the space between them on the bed.

“Bored?” Hotch laughed softly, running his fingers through Jack’s hair. He was glad that Jack hadn’t inherited his own dislike for physical touch. Jack was about the only person in the world that he would seek a comforting touch from and he wasn’t yet ready for Jack to grow up and turn away from him when offered a hug. “Couldn’t sleep, huh?” 

Jack nodded. “Saw Aunt JJ on tv again, did a bad thing happen?” Hotch was surprised how quickly Jack connected JJ’s press conference to his job. 

He ran his hand back again. “Yes, Jack.”

“Why are you here? You are meant to catch the bad guy who does bad things.” 

He thought about how to answer that for a moment. “We have some extra help this time, so we don’t have to go too far away. I’ll be home most nights.” 

Jack didn’t seem to notice the hesitation in his answer for which Hotch was relieved.  _ He’s a child, not a profiler. _ He didn’t need to know that the bad guy was near home and he most definitely didn’t need to know that the bad guy was after his father. Again. “Who is the extra help?” he asked curiously. 

One thing nobody warned him about becoming a parent was how many questions children asked. Although he never mined them, it was difficult when he didn’t know the answers. “Well, there’s a man called Doctor Reid. He has a team like I have a team and we’re working together.” 

“Like Batman and Robin?” Jack asked, turning to look up at Hotch. 

He smiled down at him. “More like... Iron Man and Captain America. We’re the Avengers.” 

Jack giggled. 

They weren’t exactly hugging; Jack’s head was against Hotch’s chest and Hotch had his hand resting on the back of Jack’s neck where his hairline ended. If Jack fell asleep against his chest, he’d roll off himself during the night. He was just happy Jack still came to him on restless nights because eventually a day would come when he wouldn’t. If it meant sitting at an uncomfortable angle for an hour or two, he would gladly do it every time.

“Why do you need extra help?” Jack’s voice was a little softer than it had been when he first came in. He was getting tired, if only a little. 

Hotch shifted himself until he was more comfortably sitting against the headboard. “There are planes involved and my team doesn’t know a lot about them. But Doctor Reid’s team does.” 

“I know a lot about planes too,” Jack said.

“You do?” He wasn’t aware Jack had found a new interest. “Tell me about them then.” 

Jack smiled against Hotch’s chest; he could feel it through the thin fabric of his sleep shirt. “The first plane was made in 1903 by two brothers. There was just one plane then, but now there’s loads of them. The biggest one is... I don’t remember the name, but it carried a Russian rocket ship! It’s really heavy too ‘cause the engines are really big.”

He listened to Jack for almost twenty minutes until he ran out of steam. “Why don’t we go to New York on a plane?” 

The flight to New York was only an hour, just long enough not to bore Jack and Hotch wouldn’t have to commit to a weekend plan he couldn’t promise. He could already see Jack’s pure, unfiltered joy on the plane in his mind. He’d do anything to see it as often as possible. He would take him to New York every day. Jack had never been to the Air and Space Museum at the Smithsonian either, So that would go on Hotch’s list too.

“Really?” Jack’s voice jumped an octave with excitement. “When you catch the bad guy?” 

Hotch nodded. “As soon as we get him. Maybe Aunt Jessica can help you pack a day bag after school tomorrow so you’ll be all ready as soon as I finish.” Jack squeezed his side tight with excitement. “Do you need more film for your camera?”

“Yes, please. I took some pictures of a dog I saw at the park with Uncle Will and Henry.”

Hotch hummed. Jack developed an interest in photography last year, so he bought him a polaroid camera for his birthday. He stuck all his photos on the fridge or in his room. “I’ll get you some tomorrow, but you have to save them for the trip.”

The happiness vibrated from Jack, sending shockwaves through Hotch straight to his heart. It squeezed dangerously tight in his chest and a wet heat formed at the back of his eyes. He fought to keep it there until Jack couldn’t see him. 

Slowly but surely, the excitement shifted to sleepiness and Jack’s eyes fought to stay open. Hotch lifted him lightly off his chest and to the far side of the bed, under the duvet where he settled easily. Once he was stiff in his slumber, Hotch relaxed and laid down on the mattress. 

Jack slept soundlessly throughout the whole night, which was more than Hotch could say for himself. He thought about Reid; his easy smile and wavy hair, the excited hand gestures and sparkling eyes. 

Yes, it did wonders for his ego to know that this handsome, intelligent, brilliant young man was attracted to him, but it played havoc on his heart to admit he might also feel something similar. 

After the divorce, Dave took him to a bar and  _ just so happened _ to run into an old friend of his and then had to leave early, subsequently leaving Hotch and the man alone. His name was Jacob and he was nice- they went on a few dates but Hotch eventually called it off after two months. He hadn’t thought about dating since that. He hadn’t even looked at another person like that since Haley died; it felt wrong. Even though they were divorced and she would want him to move on, (Jessica’s words) it didn’t sit right with him. His focus should be on their son, the only part of Haley that was still alive besides her memory.

Maybe he just needed to take Dave and Jessica’s advice. Maybe it was time to move on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, questions, anything and everything! If you prefer, ask anonymously on tumblr: hotchreidd


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for implied indirect drug use. If you would like a chapter summary instead of reading just leave a comment.

At the NTSB head office, Hotch and his team arrived at 9am sharp. They were greeted by Dr. Blake in navy overalls who updated them on their part of the investigation. Reporters were lined up outside waiting for an update on the case, and Hotch sent JJ to speak to them. She tied her hair up with an elastic on her wrist saying she’d return in ten minutes. 

"All the evidence collected is over there," Blake pointed to a large table in the far corner of the hangar. "You should be ready to go in about fifteen minutes once recovery confirms everything has been logged. If you find anything you want to collect just let one of us know and we’ll bag it up."

"Thank you,” Hotch said to her with a polite nod.

She nodded and excused herself when a man called for her from the other side of the room. The team was left to their own devices, looking completely out of place in the hangar with their suits and guns and authoritative presence.

Prentiss hit her elbow against Rossi’s arm to gain his attention. When Rossi turned to her she whispered, "I don't see Hotch’s boyfriend anywhere." 

Rossi snickered but stopped when Hotch turned around to face them. "I can hear you two," he responded, straight faced and voice neutral as ever. Prentiss muttered an apology that they both knew was not sincere in the slightest. When Hotch turned back around they began to laugh again. He let them. 

When JJ returned exactly ten minutes later they were beckoned over to the reconstructed plane and handed gloves. Blake was waiting as they were briefed on what not to touch, and procedure for anything they might want to examine. "Doctor Reid should be here in just a moment to take you through," she said with an unusual edge to her voice. Colder and snappier than she was earlier.

Morgan turned and caught Rossi’s eye. Morgan raised his eyebrows, wordlessly asking if he picked up on Blakes unusual behaviour and Rossi nodded, silently confirming.

A minute later Reid walked in through one of the doors from the main building. "Good morning, Agents," he greeted as he approached the BAU team. He wore his usual navy jacket with NTSB in bright yellow lettering and a thick framed pair of sunglasses. 

He made his way to Blake who had the same displeased expression on her face, somewhat heightened now. They exchanged a short and argumentative conversation that the agents couldn't quite hear.

“I told you to call if you need the day off.”

“I don’t.” 

“What’s with the glasses?” 

“It’s  _ fine _ .”

Blake thrusted a pair of blue latex gloves into Reid’s hands, sending him slightly off his feet for a moment. “In the office is one thing, but-”

Reid turned away from Blake without letting her finish and smiled widely at Hotch. "Shall we get started?" he asked, waiting for no reply as he began climbing up and into the plane. 

The smell of smoke and gasoline still clung to the aircraft despite being a week since the crash; the metallic blood scent was much less noticeable. Rossi sputtered and coughed while others wheezed in through the thick air. Reid twisted. "Oh- i forgot to ask if you, uh. We have masks to help if you want them." He was having unusual difficulty in getting the words out. "For the air filtration or whatever. I'm used to it, I don't notice anymore, but you may need it.”

Morgan’s eyebrows rose. “Air filtration or  _ whatever _ ?” he said, repeating Reid’s words with confusion. It was highly unusual to hear Reid talking... like that. In his field of expertise, they expected his trademark ramble they had become accustomed with since working with him. 

“Yeah,” Reid said, taking little notice to Morgan. “So your guy was sitting there.” Referring to the man the BAU had in custody since last night. He pointed to a seat near the back of the plane and put an end to the conversation that Morgan might have been trying to start. 

The team walked around the plane, theorising with each other while Reid paid them almost no attention. He made his way to the cockpit and sat in the pilot’s seat, and Hotch came in after him to sit in the co-pilot's seat. 

Hotch watched as Reid ran his hands along the different switches and buttons. “I’ve never seen the cockpit of a plane this big,” he said conversationally. 

“What I love about flying is that every plane is unique,” Reid said, smiling in a soft way. 

“Really?” Hotch looked over at him.

He nodded and pushed his foot down on a rudder pedal. “Sometimes it’s only miniscule details, the side stick of a 737 is half an inch higher than the 747’s. The DC-10 ignition control is predominately blue, whereas its predecessor DC-8 was green.”

He was back to his usual self it seemed; whatever foul mood had come over him mere minutes ago while talking to Morgan had seemingly disappeared.

“Amazing.” 

Reid paused his actions, his long, skinny fingers gripping the knob of the course setter, and turned to Hotch. “You surely don’t mean that,” he said, trying to laugh it off, but Hotch’s gaze was steadfast and serious. 

He nodded. “I do, really. The way you just- you work on autopilot. As if it’s all… so natural to you.” He looked down, not able to look Reid in the eye as he complimented him so bluntly. Hotch rarely did such a thing. 

When he looked up after a considerable amount of time in silence, he saw Reid was thinking. His hands ghosted over the controls and he was biting his lip. Hotch watched him until he hummed. 

“What?” Hotch asked. 

“Autopilot.” was all he said. 

“What?” Hotch repeated.

“Autopilot failure. Are you serious? I’m switching to manual. I’ll reboot the computers. No use, I’ll fly stick,” Reid said, looking straight ahead out of the windows. His voice was neutral and distant, a complete 180 from what it had been a minute ago.

Hotch recognised the words he was saying; he was reciting the pilot and co-pilot’s conversation from the cockpit voice recorder they had listened to together days previous. “Is there something wrong?” Hotch asked, not able to follow what Reid was trying to explain. 

In response, Reid leaned forward and flipped one of the many switches on the controls. Lights across the board lit up. “The autopilot is functional.” He pointed to one of the lights, but it made little difference to Hotch. He decided to just take Reid’s word for it. 

“Functional?” Hotch furrowed his eyebrows. “It didn’t fail?” 

Reid shook his head, pressing at more buttons Hotch had no idea of their function. “Off,” he said, flipping a red switch and shutting down the autopilot. “On.” He flipped the switch and the lights returned. He did it twice more before finally sighing and falling back against the seat. 

He looked down at his hands and back to Hotch. “I don’t mean to tell you how to do your job, but...” Hotch couldn’t see much of his expression because of Reid’s tinted glasses. “Maybe don’t clear Captain Hayward just yet?”

Hotch smiled because he was almost certain Reid was aiming for humour. “I think you could do my job better than me, Doctor genius.” 

“I, um.” Reid laughed. “I doubt that,” he said, matching Hotch’s smile. When he brought his hand to the back of his neck, his glasses slipped down his nose just far enough for Hotch to see the bloodshot veins in Reid’s eyes.

He pushed the frames back up before Hotch could say anything, but they both knew. Reid grabbed the sleeves of his jacket and stood abruptly. “See you later,” he said and left the cockpit. Down the stairs of the plane and across the hangar out the door he entered from. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Share your thoughts! I love reading your comments


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